Unconquered (52 page)

The picnic spot Jared had selected was secluded and charming. On the far side of a daisy-filled meadow, it was bordered by a stream, which was edged with soft green willow trees. Securing the horses to a tree, Jared lifted Belinda down and, taking the basket out, walked to a grassy spot by the water. Belinda took the carriage robe, and spread it on the wet grass with a little flourish.

“Oh, Jared,” she sighed. “It is simply too lovely.”

What a dear girl she was, he thought, smiling down at her. She was so petite—an inch shorter than Amanda—that he sometimes felt foolish standing next to her. “I am glad I have pleased you so easily, Belinda,” he said.

“Everything you do pleases me,” she said softly, lowering her dark blue eyes shyly.

“Thank you, my dear,” he answered sincerely, touched by her girlish confession.

Belinda blushed. Attempting to change the subject, she asked, “Shall we eat, m’lord?” She sat down on the robe and began to spread the contents of the basket out on it, exclaiming with delight at the goodies she found. There were tiny sandwiches of cucumber and watercress, miniature meat pastries, chicken wings encased in puff pastry, little strawberry tarts, early cherries from France, and a glass container of lemonade.

“It is perfect except for one thing,” said Belinda.

“And what is that?” Jared asked, wondering what he could have possibly forgotten.

“The desserts will stay cooler if we have some ferns to shade them. I believe there must be some by the water, perhaps around the bend in the stream beneath those trees. Will you fetch some for me, Jared?”

“Of course.”

No sooner had he gone than Belinda reached for the lemonade container. Uncorking it, she poured equal portions into the two silver cups he had packed. Into one of the silver cups she carefully emptied a paper of white powder she had had secreted in
her bosom. The powder dissolved almost instantly. Belinda looked carefully around to be sure she had not been observed, and smiled to herself. The silver cup of lemonade now contained a powerful aphrodisiac, and once Jared drank it his senses would be so fired that he would have to be a saint to resist her. He would seduce her, and she would allow it to happen. Within the pocket of her gown was a membrane of chicken’s blood which she would smear on her thighs at the appropriate moment in order that her virginity might be attested to.

Belinda did not expect Jared Dunham to propose marriage directly after the seduction. He was no green boy. He would think about what had happened between them, and she would accept the blame for their actions and be sure he was allowed no further liberties lest he think her a wanton. Just a taste of the fruit to whet his appetite, but no more. By the end of the season he would propose.

“What are you smiling at?” he asked, sitting next to her and handing her a bunch of cool green ferns.

“At how very happy I am this minute,” she said.

Jared was touched. How charming she was, how innocent, how very different from Miranda. Belinda was all sweetness and softness. She would never leave her child to go tearing off in search of a husband who had expressly forbidden her to leave England. No, Belinda would be obedient and predictable. She would never break a man’s heart. She was a real woman.

“A sandwich, m’lord?” She held the bone-china plate out to him.

They ate slowly. Jared was more relaxed that he had been in months. She was really quite lovely. Her full, young breasts swelled enticingly above her scooped neckline, contrasting with the girlish white muslin dress with its pink sprigs of apple blossom. Those round, smooth fruits beckoned him, and when she leaned forward to refill his lemonade cup he felt himself looking down her gown at her large, pink nipples. The sight sent an ache into his groin. Jared was appalled. He didn’t lack for women. Why should this young girl excite him so much?

“It is really quite warm for May,” she commented. “I am quite faint with the heat.” And she leaned back against him, her snow-white shoulders and chest his for the taking. His arm slipped around her waist and, dipping his dark head, he placed a kiss on
her plump shoulder. “Oh!” she cried out softly. Turning in his arms, she said, “You must not be so bold, m’lord.”

“Would you deny me a little kiss, Belinda?” he teased her.

“You may kiss me only on the lips, m’lord,” she said solemnly. “I do not believe it is quite proper that you kiss me at all, let alone on my shoulder. But if you do not think me bold, I should like it if you kissed me as you did the other day.”

My God, she was innocent! he thought. He pulled her into his grasp and kissed her mouth. Belinda melted against him triumphantly, accepting kiss after kiss, pretending to let him guide her, shivering with genuine pleasure when his velvet tongue touched hers. She felt his hands seeking her breasts, and protested faintly although the truth of the matter was that she was reveling in his touch. Her potion had obviously worked, for he was hot with his lust for her, and she almost laughed aloud with victory.

He freed her full breasts from her bodice, crushing them, kissing them, enjoying their softness, their lily-of-the-valley-perfume scent. Bodly he sucked on her nipples while she protested with mewling little cries and pretended to push him away, but there was no stopping him now. Impassioned, he pushed her gown up, drawing her undergarments down, all the while murmuring at her as a drunken man does.

“Let me, Belinda. Let me love you, my darling. Ah, God, you’re too sweet!”

“Oh, Jared, you mustn’t! I don’t think you really should! Oh! I shall be ruined!”

She barely had time to get the blood-filled membrane from her pocket before he was thrusting into her. She gave a little shriek which he muffled with his mouth, and struggled against him. Jared assumed she was merely attempting to protect her virtue, but Belinda was fighting to get her hand between her legs so she could crush the pouch and bloody her thighs. Finally she succeeded, and then she burst into tears, sobbing piteously. He attempted to soothe her with kisses, apologizing for his behavior. Taking up her cue, Belinda nobly assumed full responsibility for his actions.

“It is all my fault, Jared,” she wept daintily. “I should not have suggested that we picnic alone. Oh, I am so ashamed! What must you think of me!”

“I think that you are a dear and trusting girl, Belinda. I can only apologize for my behavior.”

“You do not think badly of me?” She put on her best woebegone face.

“No, I do not, and I hope you do not think badly of me.”

“Oh, no, Jared! I could
never
think badly of you!”

The innocent declaration only made him feel worse. Damn! He had behaved badly, very badly. He had seen blood on her thighs, too, which meant that he had taken her precious virginity. He had not, however, forced his way through her maidenhead, which seemed odd. It hadn’t been like that first night with Miranda. Miranda! Oh my darling, he agonized, why did you leave me! Making love to Belinda only reminded him of his beloved Miranda.

Belinda de Winter was certain that Jared would declare himself shortly, by season’s end at the latest. So she was not surprised when, one day, her maid brought word that Lord Dunham was waiting to see her in the morning room, along with her guardians, the duke and the duchess. This is it, she thought, coolly triumphant, pinching her cheeks as she peered into her dressing table mirror before hurrying downstairs. The duke and duchess would be so proud of her!

“Oh, miss, it’s so exciting!” bubbled her maid, and in a rare show of generosity Belinda de Winter gifted her maid with one of her lace handkerchiefs. “Oh, milady, thank you!” the woman cried.

“To remind you always of my good fortune,” she said archly, and hurried downstairs to receive the reward of all her labors.

Her godmother and the duke were both looking rather grim, which seemed odd. She curtseyed politely and prettily, and sat down next to the duchess.

“Belinda, dear,” said her godmother, “Lord Dunham has asked our permission to speak with you on a certain matter.”

Belinda looked suitably coy, casting her eyes downward in a show of modesty, and murmuring, “Yes, Aunt Sophia.” Lord! Weren’t they going to leave them alone? No one moved. Obviously not. Oh well, thought Belinda, the more witnesses the better!

Jared Dunham sat down on the other side of her, and began to speak words she had never expected to hear. “Lady de Winter—Belinda—before
the gossips begin, before you can be injured, I must tell you that my wife, Miranda, has been found alive. I know that you will rejoice with me. It is indeed a miracle, and yet my miracle is apt to jeopardize your reputation. You must now understand that anything I might have said must now be forgotten. I regret any pain or embarrassment I may have unwittingly caused you.”

She was stunned, infuriated, outraged, but her saner self held her in check. “How happy you must be, my lord,” she said, forcing a smile. “I, of course, fully understand your position, and you must have no concern for me now that your dear wife is so fortuitously restored to you.”

Jared Dunham stood, looking much relieved, and bowed to the duke and duchess and then to Belinda. He left the room. Only when they heard the front door close did the duke say, “Bad luck, my gel! Well, the season’s not over by a long shot. If you took my advice you’d settle for something less showy with a good income.”

Belinda’s face blotched most unattractively, and her blue eyes bugged. “Shut up, you old fool!” she snarled. “The American was my ace in the hole, and I bloody well mean to have him! I won’t be the laughing stock of the ton! I won’t! Without a penny to my name, and with my charming relations, who else will have me!”

“Belinda! Apologize to your Uncle Algernon at once!” scolded the duchess. “Lord Dunham’s wife is alive and that is the end of it. It is unfortunate, but there it is.”

“You’ve had other respectable offers, my gel,” said the duke, totally unperturbed by Belinda’s show of temper. “What the hell’s the matter with young Lord Arden that you sent him packing? Boy’s one of the best judges of horseflesh I’ve ever met.”

“Two thousand a year, and a moldy, tumbledown mansion in Sussex?” scoffed Belinda. “Be serious, uncle. I could spend two thousand a year on negligees alone.”

“Plenty of people have lived well on less, miss. Reconsider young Arden, and I’ll restore his mansion as a wedding gift to you both. You could do a hell of a lot worse. At least he’s young and virile.”

“I could do better!” Belinda snapped back.

“I’ll not pay for you to have another season in London, miss,” warned the duke. “I’ve three gels of me own in the nursery almost ready to be fledged. Forget the Yankee, and find yourself a decent husband quick, or it’s back to Hereford at season’s end for you, an old maid. Think of that, my gel!”

Lady Belinda de Winter picked up a valuable Chinese vase. Looking straight at her uncle, she hurled it across the morning room. Then she stormed out.

Jared, driving his phaeton back to his Devon Square house, was a rolling sea of confused feelings. He had been on the point of leaving his home last night for a few hours of gambling at White’s, when Amanda had arrived, flushed and triumphant, Adrian and young Kit Edmund trailing in her wake.

“She is not dead! She is not dead! I told you! I
told you!
Miranda is alive, and Kit has spoken to her!” Then she had collapsed into a nearby chair, weeping and laughing at the same time.

He had gone white, believing her finally gone mad, but Adrian had quickly confirmed Amanda’s tale, and the Marquis of Wye had asked to speak with him. The four of them had gone into the library, and after Jared had, with surprisingly steady hands, poured everyone a brandy, Kit told his tale.

When he had finished Jared asked quietly, “You are sure she is not an impostor?”

“My lord,” said Kit Edmund with great dignity, “it is no secret that I have long admired Lady Dunham. Even if I were blind I would recognize that not quite English lilt in her voice. It is your wife.”

Jared nodded. “Did my wife have any message for me?” he asked.

“Her exact words, my lord, were
‘just tell him I love him.’ ”

Lord Dunham swerved his matched bays just in time to avoid a mail coach pulling out of an inn yard.

She was alive!
Alive after the most incredible series of adventures. He suspected Kit Edmund’s tale was not the full story, but she would not confide that in anyone but him.

He pulled up before his house, and the groom was there to lead the horses around to the carriage house. Should he go for her himself? He couldn’t bear to wait any longer before seeing her. He would go to Istanbul on
Dream Witch
. He would ask Ephraim
Snow to be his captain. He would take Perky, too. Although married for two years now, the little maid had no children and would be delighted to resume her former position.

That evening, still in profound shock, Jared spent an hour with his old friend and sometime lover, Sabrina Elliot. A retired actress, she was an attractive, elegant, warm woman who enjoyed gentlemen very much. She conducted her affairs with the utmost discretion, but the truth was that her lovers enjoyed talking with Sabrina as much as they enjoyed making love to her.

When Sabrina had heard Jared’s astounding news, she cried, “How soon will you be leaving?”

“Sabrina, I am not sure yet,” he replied, running a long hand through his dark hair. “The truth is that I have had a most awkward day. I had to explain … these new circumstances to the Lady de Winter, whom I had planned to marry.”

“God forbid!” muttered Sabrina.

“What?”

“Nothing, darling. But surely your heart does not belong to Belinda de Winter?” she asked, amused.

“No,” he admitted, “but she seemed a suitable candidate for a wife.”

“Hmm … unlike your wayward Miranda. Is that it, Jared? Belinda de Winter would never do anything improper, isn’t that right? Oh, Jared! To compare the two is like comparing oatmeal to champagne.”

“Sabrina,” Jared began, grateful for her directness and insight, “the fact is, of course, that I cannot wait to be with Miranda again, and I am leaving tomorrow. But somehow I think you already knew that.”